My relationship with my husband started out like any good romantic comedy. We wrote love letters daily, had epic conversations under bed sheets, laughed about things only we could understand, serenaded one another with our guitars and handwritten song lyrics, ate meals by the glow of candle light and got it on to perfectly curated playlists. We were instantly best friends, co-adventurers, and crazy in love. And we woke up every morning unbelievably grateful for what we had.

Eventually, there was an intricate proposal and a beautiful wedding. We rode the high of our tropical honeymoon for a few months….and then the marriage began.

I somehow believed we would be exempt from any one of the typical marital stereotypes. Those things couldn’t possibly happen to us. We were different. We were so in love, so obsessed with romance, so happy.

But, on a day I can’t quite remember, I began to sometimes hate this man that I love so much. And I’m pretty sure he has hated me too, at times. Because, it’s hard living with someone who knows you so well….someone you know you have to stay and fight with (or have annoyingly long conversations with in the parking lot of the supermarket), because, really, you aren’t going to leave. Not ever.

Yes, instead of romance there is work. Things I need to work on, things he needs to work on, things we needed to work on. There is silence that goes on for too long, and times when it feels like we are murdering our relationship with horrible words we don’t mean.

I used to get legit tears in my eyes when I told this man how much I loved him, but when we became parents, there were instead times when I cried in my bedroom, with the door shut, wondering how we were going to keep this thing going.

At some point, I began to long for those carefree premarital days with my husband. The time before the six stressful months of trying to conceive a child, before the summer living with my mother-in-law, before two moves and home ownership, before pregnancy and adjusting to parenthood (**interesting statistic- did you know that 87% of couples go into crisis after the birth of their first child?). I missed those days when I was constantly overcome by I-need-you-I-want-you-NOW fits of passion just at the sight of this man. He could be wearing sweatpants or picking his nose. I just didn’t care. He was perfect and I did everything in my power to show him just how perfect he was back then. Now I’m the person who asks him demands he get a hair cut and shave before I have sex with him again.

We have changed, and I spent many months out of this last year of marriage wishing we could be the “old us.” That is, until one day when I said all of this out loud to my husband, and we realized together that the complicated (what feels like a) mess we are living right now is so much better. It is real…strong…reliable. The love we have now is on a whole new level that could not be understood by those crazy romantics from five years ago who had not yet experienced financial hardship, temporary homelessness or childbirth together. What those two (kids) had was fun, sure, but it was volatile and immature and could never compare to the stability of a real marriage.

Every fight, triumph, loss, struggle, joyful occasion…every peak and valley…is like another pass of a needle through cloth, threading us together and creating the unique, beautiful fabric that is our life. For this, we are happy and grateful.